Auteur : Vincent Caplan
2010 repris 21.07.2025
Texte protégé Sacem
Musique, Arrangements, Voix Masculine : IA Suno V4.5+
Direction Musicale : Vincent Caplan
Tous droits réservés


Ma Femme - Vincent Caplan IA

Originally meant as a meme track, my new  tracks can be found on my page!
Jazz is not the genre here anymore, sorry folks~

 Didnt expect this one to take off though, thank you all!

Alone under the Moonlight

LYRICS

C'était ce petit café, rue des Martyrs
Où l'on se retrouvait tous les samedis
Tu tournais ton sucre dans ta tasse fêlée
Moi, j'écoutais nos rêves s'envoler
Puis un jour, tu as changé les règles du jeu
Sans prévenir, sans même dire adieu

Tu voulais tout : l'espace et le silence
Mes certitudes en guise de souffrance
J'ai senti ma liberté qui s'efface
Et j'ai compris qu'il fallait que je passe...

Mais t'en prends pas à moi
J'y suis pour rien, non
Moi
J'ai dû reculer d'au moins un pas
Pour te laisser faire ta loi
T'en prends pas à moi

Je me souviens de tes mains sur la nappe
Qui dessinaient des frontières dans l'espace
Tu parlais d'amour comme d'un territoire
Où je devais me tenir en retrait
J'ai vu venir l'heure des renoncements
Ce moment où l'amour devient patient

Un dernier café, un regard qui s'évite
Le gris du ciel qui sur nos cœurs s'abat
J'ai posé la note sur la table
En acceptant l'inévitable...
Notre histoire sous tes décrets absurdes
Partir était l'unique issue sûre

Alors t'en prends pas à moi
J'y suis pour rien, non
Moi
J'ai dû reculer d'au moins un pas
Pour te laisser faire ta loi
T'en prends pas à moi

Un pas... juste un pas...
Comme on s'écarte d'un monument
Comme on quitte un café terni
Comme on referme un livre trop lu
C'était ça, mon ultime bravoure :
Déserter ton champ de bataille
Pour cesser d'être ta victoire

T'en prends pas à moi

T'en prends pas à moi

Artist's Waltz (Saturnine Mine Waltz)

A cinematic western-folk requiem told in twelve parables — from desolation to communion, from dusk to dawn.
Harlan Crowe’s baritone carries the grit of the desert; Sora’s soprano carries its light.
The Spanish classical guitar is the road itself: steady, unbroken, eternal.

The Road to Galilee

Avare Jahan

In the canyon where the coyotes cry,
Old Jim walked in with a fevered eye,
He swore at dawn he’d claim his little land,
But the deed was dust slipped through his hand.
That night he stumbled past the lantern’s glow,
Found Mary weeping where the river flows,
He raised his fist in a fit of spite,
And left her cold by the pale moonlight.

In the dust of the frontier, blood stains the plain,
A gun still smoking, a widow’s refrain,
No pardon given under the prairie sky,
When the innocent fall, and the wild winds sigh.

The sheriff came riding at first light’s break,
His boots weighed heavy for justice’s sake,
Old Jim stared hard, said he meant no harm,
But Mary’s ghost still holds his arm.
They hauled him down where the gallows stand,
Under a flag that once flew proud and grand,
He swung in silence, the desert heard his plea,
But mercy died where no one could see.

In the dust of the frontier, blood stains the plain,
A gun still smoking, a widow’s refrain,
No pardon given under the prairie sky,
When the innocent fall, and the wild winds sigh.

And the tumbleweeds roll where the tears once fell,
Echoes of sorrow ring like a death-knell,
The land keeps secrets in its cracked, dry hand,
Of murder done and no contraband.

Now Mary’s name drifts on the dry night air,
In every shadow, in every prayer,
Old Jim’s boots are empty, his heart a stone,
In the silent town he stands alone.
The frontier rages in its timeless way,
And justice hides where the coyotes play,
So heed the danger when you stake your claim,
For the price of greed is a burning flame.

In the dust of the frontier, blood stains the plain,
A gun still smoking, a widow’s refrain,
No pardon given under the prairie sky,
When the innocent fall, and the wild winds sigh.

In the dust of the frontier

A deeply emotional Persian classical ballad honoring a mother’s love — performed with ney, santur, tar, kamancheh and full orchestral strings.
A heartfelt male vocal delivers traditional Persian ornamentations (tahrir), rising from intimate whispers to a grand, tearful climax.
A sacred tribute filled with gratitude, longing and reverence.

Madaram | مادَرَم

T Amo E T Amero   Tamo E Tamero ) - Peppino Gagliardi

Matt Monro - Alguien Cantó (Completa)

Esi Mono Esi - Lambis Livieratos

The entire sound is in my hands. I write cyber poetry, produce, and compose every track ready for Immersive 3D. Every beat is crafted for spatial and next-gen headphones.
Intimate lyrics, total immersion, every track.

For 30 years I kept unfinished demos to myself, never letting them out. Now I finish what I start and release it the moment it’s alive.

I use every tool available, human or machine, as an instrument.
Technology doesn’t replace creativity. It expands it.

In the dust of the frontier

Terminalose

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